


Affair

by taehly



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, first time writing in wow fandom please be gentle, mage/warlock, two very professional adults avoiding feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taehly/pseuds/taehly
Summary: It had started with a smile. It spiraled from there.
Relationships: Khadgar (Warcraft)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be gentle! This is my first WoW fanfic, and I am trying something a little different from what I am used to. I may add a second part to this to explain the characters a little better. Thank you for reading!

They do not talk. Not of this, not of anything personal. It is a simple language between them that speaks of their mutual desire. A shared momentary gaze, a clearing of his throat, the shift of her path to some hidden alcove. She is always joined by a raven, eyes facing away until the press of a body gives her permission to break her gaze from the wall. 

Only the sound of breathing, hers always the loudest fills the alcove as familiar fingers unbuckle her belt. Lips on her neck. Hands cupping her breasts. Spun around by those strong hands, stone digging hard into her shoulder blades as he kneels. She does not look at him, not with her full gaze, only allowing herself a peripheral view. 

The bold touch of his mouth to her core causes her to tear at the very stone beneath her, choking back the damning sound of his name. The fire his tongue brought to the soft flesh he sought for caused her spine to twist. This affair was some secret, something precious, that she would not share, and it seemed he felt the same way. Her hands lift from the wall to grip onto the broad shoulders above her hips. They slid into soft silver hair to clutch as if it could keep her from turning to dust. 

The ether twists above them, her damned sight catching the way the fel energy danced like fire between the folds of the universe. His moan brings her back, the wet sound of his mouth leaving her core. Tongue and teeth creep up her thigh, blue eyes avoiding her scarred gaze as he moved to settle above her. The rustle of cloth, leather, the burst of cold air against her bared skin before he covered her again. 

There is a breath between them, him looking at the point above her ear, and her gaze settled on his throat. This need between them, an embarrassing creature. The breath exhales and he pushes inside her with a noise of male pleasure, her nails gripping into his biceps. It feels as though he is breaking her, though she knows better. A scarred gaze falls shut while her rosy lips fall open, heat bursting inside her belly. 

She wonders if he sees the colors of magic as she sees the flame of the fel, feels the heat of it. The thoughts scatter away as he begins to move at his own pace, seeking his pleasure. She lifts her arms, wrapping them around his neck to drag his mouth against her own - he does not fight it. The stone is unkind through the silk of her robe, and his own robe is rough against the sensitivity of her bared nipples. 

His mouth breaks from hers and returns to her neck, where she can hear his muttering out his own oaths of pleasure. The hunger builds, the heat overtakes, and she loses to the creature of want inside her. Her voice raises in a tone she only recognizes when they're like this, and a thick glove covers her mouth, forcing her jaw shut. She does not fight it, his blue eyes locked against her gaze as he watches her pleasure. 

Her body shudders through a sharp release, thighs clutching at his hips, and his gaze breaks. Eyelids flutter shut. His moan is hard-won in this case, and there is a pulse of victory amongst the pleasure. His hips speed up, releasing her mouth to balance as he drives himself towards completion.

When his release fills her, a wicked heat coating her womb. Her fingers curl into his hair as he breathes hard into her neck. The silence between them replaces the heat, and she feels him slip from her body even as it clutches to him. Her feet touch stone, and her clothing situated back to something proper. 

He is immaculate again. As if wholly untouched by her fel stained fingers, her minuscule power hardly a pulse against his own. There is silence. There is pressure. It builds between them until the discomfort is too much for him. 

"Archmage." The warlock says in a husky tone, voice lacking the passion it had contained only moments before. He seems relieved, as he always does.

"Commander."

It is a dismissal. It is a greeting. It is a warning, the promise of their combined silence in this affair. The warlock does not need a reminder, no maiden with a fluttering heart. 

"I will return to my duties." She tells him, and he is without reply as she leaves him. Sometimes she wonders if he would like her to stray from their script, to do something out of the play they've locked themselves in. The burning of his gaze into her own, the way he seems to wish to possess her in these clandestine meetings. Her singular gaze meets his at the door, watches him watch her. Watches his tongue wet his lips. Watches him go to speak.

The door shuts before he can voice whatever he was going to. 

It was simpler this way, the warlock reasoned. They did not speak of personal things, they did not speak of feelings. The girlish heart she had possessed went the way of her sight, the scarring a reminder of what trust can do. 

Staring out amongst her very small world, her garrison alive with voices and activity, she allows herself to close off from everything. She witnesses a black raven flying across the sky, her fingers curl into silk, forcing her gaze from the streak of black across the sky. 

It was easier for them if she did not look.


	2. Yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warlock is summoned from Stormwind to Draenor. Someone's missed her.

Her name was Decayence, and she was a warlock.

She wasn't always named thusly, but to protect her family from the stigma of having a fel user for a child - an illustrious family of stodgy mages, all Kirin Tor students - it would be devastating to know that a member of their breed and pedigree was tainted by fel. When she had presented with the ability to cast spells, Decayence's family had been thrilled. Naturally, of course, she was a prodigy. No. Decayence was a name she gave herself, when there was no one else to call her her old name.

But she wasn't always. Troubled and wild, like a hurricane inside a feather factory, the girl somehow found trouble. Fist fights with boys, constantly traipsing about in the forest, and generally bringing mortification to her put upon mother. But little Decayence had a secret in those woods. A secret friend who taught her a different kind of magic, a little imp creature that taught her how to read the demonic runes. She was 11 years old when she struck a bargain with the little demon, Glipkrig, and soon she belonged to the fel flames and the demons.  
When her mother found out, the potential scandal alone drove the woman to act. Quietly, with little fanfare, Decayence was packed away inside a carriage and sent away. Her parents did not see her off. 

Where the girl ended up was of no importance, some orphanage somewhere, but it had a huge impact on her development. The orphanage had a terrible time reining her in, and finally at 15 Decayence had packed up her belongings and left the orphanage in the dead of night. It was there the girl made a decision, calling up the demon she had formed a contract with four years prior. A tumultuous life soon followed until she sat now, in a meeting with two kings and various heads of state as they argued back and forth. Back and forth. Much like the stroke of her fingers on the head of the imp in her lap, drowsing like a contented cat. 

The fel glow behind her eyes surged for a moment as a finger was flung in her direction, the spitting insult of 'the warlock' catching the woman's attention. It was Greymane again, frothing at the mouth much like the wild dog he was - Greymane like many others did not trust warlocks with good reason. And Decayence was a very powerful warlock, powerful and detached entirely from her fellow people.

"What's to stop her from turning on us, Varian! You place too much trust in this supposed champion," Drawing to his full height, Greymane's eyes settle on her with a seething rage. "She would sooner betray us to the whims of her true master, Sargeras! You know all warlocks serve that demon, themselves, and no one else." Imperious he watches her, growing frustrated by her lack of response.

"Genn..." Varian attempts to soothe but he sounds too exasperated, "She has displayed her loyalty again and again. I have little doubt that _my_ champion is loyal to not only her king, but to her country. There is no warlock I could trust _more_ than my champion. It is why she wears such a title, unless you think I am wrong in my own judgement?" That unrelenting gaze causes the old wolf to falter and Varian continues before Genn can even so much as reply.

"And she has also protected you a time or two, from what I know, hm? I understand you mistrust her easily, but I've never heard a single inkling of her worshipping Sargeras." 

Decayence turns her eyes back to her demon who looks back up at her, reading the smugness in the creatures eyes that she felt inside. But the warlock's face remained impassive. A loud ping startles everyone in the room, eyes turning to Decayence as she draws a small orb from her pack and see's _his_ face within it. Those blue eyes rend her to her core, and she activates the message.

"Commander, you are needed back in Draenor at your soonest convenience. I have strategy I would like to discuss with you." Restraining herself from holding the orb to her chest like some lovesick girl, Decayence deposits the orb back into the bag and stands. "My king." The woman begins, "I am afraid I must leave now. I understand my importance for being here, but the warfront demands my attention." Her voice is low, husky with burned vocal cords, strained beneath the fel flames she could spew forth. 

"Of course, Champion. Light protect you." Varian says with a slight half smile. Decayence took stock of it for a moment, watching his gaze dip to the exposed pale column of her neck for a moment before shying away. Interesting. Withdrawing the hearthstone to her garrison, the warlock activates it and was whisked away from the meeting room to appear within the comfort of her main hall. Setting her demon down to skip behind her, Decayence did not acknowledge anyone - which was expected. They all expected it, all encompassed by her cool indifference. 

He awaits her outside, the sun catching the white gleam on his hair, the breadth of his shoulders making the warlock's chest go tight. Khadgar was truly a....perfect specimen of a man, in her opinion. A leader of the Kirin Tor, an accomplished mage - one of the most _powerful_ mages to boot, with a boyish sense of humor sometimes and a zeal to his duties that Decayence hadn't seen in a long time. Or so she may be fooling herself, a simple girl with a crush on a man who wouldn't see her beyond someone to pass time with. But Decayence had made it that way, hadn't she? A deep sigh leaves her before the woman approaches him, down the stairs as he marvels at the work she's done.

"Archmage." Decayence greets, watching him turn around to put those devastatingly blue eyes on her - so much worse in person than in some cloudy glass ball. Frustratingly, Decayence can feel her pale cheeks heat up beneath his gaze. "You said you needed me for a strategy meeting?" Was it a true meeting or a ruse to be alone with her?

"Yes, Commander. Shall we?" Khadgar does not offer his arm, he is no doddering fool of a gentleman. Decayence smiles inwardly, following the man at a slightly quicker pace to keep up with his long legs. How he dwarfs her, Decayence muses, not the first time she's thought such a thing. The stairs of a familiar tower creak beneath their boots, and soon even more familiar stone walls greet her - a ruse it was, the warlock surmises. But she doesn't have much time to voice this amusement as his large hands grasp her cheeks to pull her off balance, into a kiss that she was not expecting.

Moments pass by before Decayence can relax into it, hands curling around his wrists to balance herself while her mouth opens up to his pressing tongue. The kiss goes on, her body crowded against stone and his heat until he feels satisfied with how kiss bruised her lips are, how flushed her cheeks, and how breathless she sounded as she panted. Khadgar groans quietly, burying his face into her pale neck to inhale her scent.

"You were away too long." The old man grouses, her hand twining into silver locks as his teeth marred up the column of her throat. His hands are not still, mapping out her familiar curves and planes, gripping at her in a greedy fashion - there is a weight behind his touch the warlock does not wish to linger on, a possessiveness that speaks more about how he feels than what he wants. 

"I've been away longer, before." Decayence points out, getting a petulant blue stare as the man looks up from bruising her neck.

"It is easier to track you here, in the wilds of Draenor than having to jump realities to find you in Stormwind and deal with the idiosyncrasies of the court." Khadgar grumbled, his fingers already unbuckling her belt to pull open robes that bare her to him. Decayence was no small woman, voluptuous in hips, breasts, and thighs - many fun things that Khadgar very much appreciated touching. Her full breasts are barely held by her brassiere, his large hands only able to somewhat contain their swell, the flesh pushing against the gaps of his strong fingers. 

"Sounds like excuses." The warlock fires back, her chest heaving against his touch. "You just like making me come to you." A quick grin curved his lips, reaching for the straining front clasp of her brassiere, letting her breasts spill free to his greedy eyes. 

"I like making you _come_." He murmurs, lowering his head to lay his devotion to her chest. Decayence's eyes fall shut as he spends the next little while slowly stripping and tasting her skin until he's finally on his knees before her, pressing his mouth to her core. Khadgar enjoyed this act more than any man she's been with, his care and precision in getting Decayence to tremble against him seeming to be laser focused. The press and curl of the mage's tongue, the thrill of his magic being pushed inside her - wisps of arcane to make her dizzy, the thrill of electricity that has her clamping a hand over her own mouth, the chill of frost on his tongue to make her squeal. 

He never asks for reciprocation in this act. Khadgar simply gives this to her, as if trying to soothe the pain in her heart he must know she feels. Higher and higher the mage pushes her until finally, Decayence's threads of control snap and her hips are grinding along his chin and mouth, fucking herself on his tongue as she comes. Gripping stone behind her, Decayence struggles to stay righted as Khadgar stands to unbuckle his robe to pull himself out.

Something angry flashes in the warlock's chest and she yanks his simple tunic free - "Take it off. I'm not going to be the only one naked." Its the first demand. The only time she's made one. She is a passive partner in her own debauchery, but now with his widened blue eyes she's seen now that this demand may have been too far. But Khadgar doesn't vanish in a cloud of black feathers, but jerkily removes his tunic as if he were a shy, awkward boy. The boots and trousers were next until finally, naked as she, he stands before her.

Decayence watches him, takes in her fill of his powerful body and proud cock, until he covers her with that body. Another kiss, but her sounds muffled not by her hand but his tongue as he pierces inside her in a single thrust. Khadgar was a silent lover - he had been for the months she'd been here, never making a sound until she wrest it from it. But this moan was too easy, a simple appreciation of her heat around him, of how slick she felt. It was different. The energy was not the same as it had been a month ago.

"Khadgar.." The warlock whispered when the kiss ended, his lips dragging along her jaw to her neck as his hips began to move. This was familiar. Her legs around his hips, supported by his strong hands, as he drove himself into her with ragged breaths. Decayence knew something was off, as Khadgar's forehead pressed against her temple and he said such...intimate words to her. How he had _missed_ her, how his days had felt so _empty_ knowing he wasn't there for him to go to. How he kept finding himself in her garrison, looking for her.

Her nails tore into his skin, ending these sweet nothings with a pained hiss - Decayence bit her lip on all the words that ached to come out, forcing them down into the fire building in her belly. Khadgar increased the pace, hands bruising her skin as his mouth settled on the apex of her shoulder, teeth biting into the muscle there as he concentrated on meeting his own completion. Blue eyes fall shut as her forehead falls against his hairline, her voice low like a whisper.

"Khadgar, Khadgar...oh, please, fill me..." And it was enough for him, Decayence found as combined this with the way she sighed in a wholly uncharacteristic way, high and girlish as he struck deep inside her. Enough to hear that groan of his finish, the way he said her name like a prayer, and feel the way he came inside her, filling her with his heat. Arms and legs tightening around Khadgar's strong body for all of a few seconds before Decayence was easing her legs down to unsteadily touch the floor, toes first, then the rest of her foot. Decayence allows herself the indulgence of being in his arms before finally stepping away. 

There was an awkward silence that came from them dressing. Decayence never felt it before, but Khadgar was letting it pour out of him like a beacon. Something had changed for him, and Decayence was too scared to ask about it. To mention it. The warlock knew what that route would lead to, reaching up to touch the scar that had stolen her sight from her. Something the fel eventually gave back. Pain, heartache, and eventually smoldering cinders of once-flesh and a house in ruins. No. Decayence wouldn't let it happen again, no matter how sweet and boyish Khadgar might be.

No matter that he already _had_ her. 

Decayence's footsteps took her to the door, pulling it open but it was shoved shut just the same. Khadgar was behind her, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders gently, which tense beneath his touch. "Please don't leave. Not this time." 

"You know I have to." Her eyes fall shut, fel and gold, "Nothings changed, Archmage." That's what she has to believe. But Khadgar no longer does, she can tell as his fingertips tense in their grip.

"That's a lie, Decayence. Somethings changed." He tries to turn her, and she wants to fight but she allows it. Looks up at him, knowing what she would see there would break her resolve. "I've been such a fool." His palm is warm on her cheek, the warlock taking in a shuddering breath. "For months I've been a fool, ignoring what's been in front of me this whole time." His voice is so soft.

"Please...don't." Decayence begs quietly, "Please don't...don't confess. Don't tell me. I can't handle another broken heart." The warlock tells him, but Khadgar is notoriously stubborn to his core, driving all those around him mad with his bullheadedness. Arms wrap around her, and words whisper gently into her ear and into her mind, and deeply into her heart. Decayence clings to this selfish man's robes as he pours himself into her, trying to fill the cracks made up of decades of pain. 

The warlock stays silent, locked in the fortress of his arms, soothed and agonized by the tone of his voice and the devotion there within. But if she closes her eyes, she tells herself, if she closes them tight then she can avoid it all. Avoid it all and deny his pleading for more.

Decayence doesn't know who the bigger fool is. Untrue, she thinks. She knows who it is. And it isn't the man confusing yearning for love.

It's the woman denying love for safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my friend Ashton! Thank you for your support and interest in this story!! <3


End file.
